Chapter 3

Phileas spent the day moving from one piece of bad news to another. Agents West and Gordon had taken agency privilege to call the Garrison Commander to them at the edge of the city. Together, they had made steps to correct the fabrications against the three young men.

"I will make it known that the charges against the Ridgemont brothers and Jules Verne are known, but I can't control what happens off this island," The Garrison commander had said. "Telegraph lines don't extend from here to Liberty. A rider could be sent there, but that could take time and I can't spare anyone. I would write you an order, giving general amnesty to all three, but I haven't the authority. You need to go to Austin for that. The real danger is to that Frenchmen Verne. The arresting officer has been spreading word about him all up and down the coast. No army officer will hesitate to shoot him on sight with the story being spread."

"We will deal with that," Agent Gordon said.

After finishing up with the authorities in Galveston, He took the Aurora to the Singleton ranch with Jessica staying behind with Mrs. Ridgemont. The one-man rawhide ranch was empty. It took little to know where they might have gone. The airship again took to the skies, following the railroad east, leaving Agent's West and Gorgon to borrow horses from the coral for their ride to Austin. The army had to be told the truth before someone was killed. They would come back to the ranch with amnesty orders afterward to wait the Aurora's return.

Upon finding the ex-soldier and Jules safe, He immediately offered his help. Yet, the man's plan…

"We were waiting for late evening before going into Liberty for my nephews," Jason told Fogg, letting go of Rebecca's hand at last.

"Just the two of you?" Fogg said, surprised.

"Convincing the deputy to hand over his prisoners won't take an army as long as we can go in announced," Jason said, nodding his head toward the airship.

"I see," Fogg said. "You would not mind extra help, though?"

"If you're offering, I'll accept if you can be of help. Verne here will listen and learn, but he's a tenderfoot, all the same. I can't afford to have any more greenhorns along."

"I am not without training in these matters," Fogg said.

"Nice words, but I intend to see if you can back them up before taking you on." With that, he pulled his pistol from its holster and tossed it to Fogg, who caught it easily. Fogg had not had to prove anything to anyone in years but humored the cavalryman.

"You carry a colt," he commented. Fogg took aim and clipped a branch on a nearby tree of length, four or five inches at a time, with three shots. The older man seemed pleased.

"Good shooting, but that isn't a colt. That is a Griswald & Gunnison made by and for the Confederate Army." He took a rifle out of a scabbard from his horse and handed that to Fogg. "This is a fifty-six Spencer. I took it off a dead Yankee during the war. It has a range of one hundred fifty to two hundred yards."

"A fine weapon," Fogg said of it. He aimed at an oak over one hundred yards away and put four holes in its trunk in a straight line. Jason nodded and then brought Fogg a second rifle.

"This one will be yours to use if you can handle it. It's a forty-four Henry and holds fourteen shots instead of seven. You load it by pulling the spring lever forward to the top and rotating the front of the barrel shroud to the side. Drop the shells in, close the shroud and carefully lower the spring. It is also a lever action like the Spencer, but shoots a mite further. I took it off a dead Yankee to increase my odds at Shiloh."

Having heard of the battle, Fogg said nothing about the man's habit of scrounging arms. He added four more holes to his straight line in the oak tree. The man then went for Jules' coach gun. Fogg accepted the shotgun, looking it over. It had a short double barrel, shorter than he was used to in a fowling piece. It was heavier than usual, too.

Behind him, Jules stood beside Rebecca, hoping Fogg knew about double triggers and the power of a ten-gage.

Fogg raised the weapon and shot a nearby sapling in half. "A powerful weapon," Fogg said as he handed it back. "I suppose you obtained that from a dead Yankee, also?"

"No, that was my daddy's gun," Jason said with a smile. "He used it to fight off Comanches when we first came here. You'll do. I have two extra horses. We will divide the packs between all, and you can have your choice of one of them. But I don't have extra saddles. Those two are saddled special for my nephews."

"I will provide my own saddle and supplies," Fogg said. He turned to re-board the Aurora.

Before the night had grown fully dark, Phileas came back, dressed in more sturdy riding clothes. Passepartout had saddled a horse for him with one of the English saddles Fogg kept on board. He was attempting to saddle a second horse under the protests of Jason Singleton. Jules was speaking to him about whatever the trouble was, but did not make any impression on the man.

"Is there some problem?" Phileas said.

"There damn sure is," Jason said. "We are not riding carriages to a picnic. This man says he's saddling my horse for the lady. I'm not taking her."

Phileas sighed and set himself to support Rebecca. "Rebecca is not a typical lady, sir. She is capable of handling herself."

As he said that, Rebecca came off the Aurora in her American split-skirt riding dress, pulling on her gloves.

"Is there a problem?"

"Miss," Jason said in a calmer but short-tempered tone. "We are riding into a dangerous situation, and I cannot guarantee your safety. Even if we weren't, the trail I'm following is going to be a rough one. I would rather you remain here."

"I can take care of myself, sir," she said levelly.

"Nonetheless, I won't have you with us. Mister," Jason called to Passepartout as he stood with the saddle for Rebecca. "Take that saddle and this lady back aboard."

Rebecca's eyes hardened. There was no time for a second shooting exhibition, and she wasn't interested in humoring the man. "Excuse me, sir," she called out.

Rebecca approached Jason, looking at him eye to eye. Once at his side, she flashed him a beautiful smile, pulled Singleton's bowie knife out of his belt before he knew what she was up to, and with one fluid motion she turned, threw, and split the trunk of a two-inch sapling in half, burying the knife to its hilt.

Jason retrieved his bowie knife, taking in the damage done to the tree. Any woman that could do that wasn't a pampered city girl. He turned back to the woman, looking her over again with a smile. "You'll do. But in the future, ask before you touch a man's knife."

Passepartout finished saddling the horse and went to his master before Fogg could take his mount. "Master these horses… They not like our horses in England."

"That's right," Jason said. "These are Texas Mustangs, not pets for riding in the park."

Fogg ignored the slur on English thoroughbreds and addressed the valet. "Passepartout, I have ridden many horses from Europe and in the Far East. "These animals are no different. Keep the Aurora here on the ground until we return. If we are not back by morning, go back to the ranch and retrieve agents West and Gordon."

Phileas turned and approached the well-muscled, deep chestnut. At the same time as Rebecca, he mounted his animal.

Both former packhorses did not care for being saddled. On English saddles, Phileas and Rebecca did not have a pommel to hold on to as the horses bucked and twisted. Fogg went flying within three seconds.

Rebecca did better. She got her animal under control, pulling it into a tight circle before coming to a halt. With fire glittering in her eyes, she gave an appreciative nod to Captain Singleton. "I like a horse with spirit. A fine animal this one." She looked at her cousin on the ground. "Coming Phileas?"

Phileas came off the ground with a determined expression, marshaling his horse with no further incidents. Jason just looked on as the English got their first taste of good American horseflesh and smiled at the pretty redhead. "She'll do," he said again.

"What are we going to do?" Jules asked as they rode toward town.

"Why just ride into town and ask the deputy to release my nephews, that's all," Jason answered. "Keep that Henry out to be seen," he instructed Fogg. "And your coach gun too, Jules. Do you have a weapon, miss?"

"I do," Rebecca said and pulled her colt out of the shoulder holster under her jacket to show him.

Jason nodded, but continued to eye the neat holster under her arm. "I've never seen a gun harness like that."

"It's a new design," Phileas said. "It should make its way to America in time. You do not think we will really need this many weapons to take on a small-town sheriff, do you?"

"No, but you can never be too careful," Jason said. "Besides, a strong show of force will always make the other fella think hard before pulling out his own weapon. This ostentatious show of firepower might even save that deputy's life if it keeps him from challenging us."

Phileas nodded, checking his exasperation. The logic of that statement was too strong to argue with, but it did not make him any less dissatisfied with the spectacle they were about to make.

As midnight came, they rode into town to the jail from the north. The deputy must have lived close by. He came around a building on foot with a shotgun in hand, meeting them on the road. "Captain Singleton," he acknowledged, giving the older man a nod and eyeing the others. "You shouldn't have come into town. The fever is still bad here."

"I've come for your prisoners," the Ranger said. He then came down off his horse with his Spencer in hand. Jules and Fogg did the same. "If you're a smart man, and I think you are, you won't argue with me. There's more to this than the Army officer told you. I'm sure you wouldn't want those boys to be executed in New Orleans needlessly. Now, let's let them out."

The Deputy looked over the newcomers before him and wished he had had someone to call on for help. All the men he would have asked were too sick. Fraser wasn't well himself. He didn't like it, but he was no fool. He was outgunned and outnumbered. Singleton made a gesture and Fraser obeyed, handing over his shotgun.

Jason, Jules, and Phileas followed the sheriff into the jail to release the boys. They came out again quickly, minus the lawman, followed by Matt and Mark.

"Where is the deputy?" Rebecca asked.

"Inside," Matt said. He approached one horse Rebecca held, giving its nose a rub. "We locked him up."

As one, Matt and Mark climbed on the horses to get as far from their long imprisonment as they could. But no sooner had they hit the saddles, their horses reared up and threw them to the street, kicking up twin clouds of dust. It happened so fast no one had time to react.

Jason did not seem surprised. He turned his horse to face his nephews. Looking down at the stunned twins, for a moment, there was a ghost of a smile on his face. The smile died as he gave them notice of the object lesson they had just been treated to.

"Next time you two children get a burr under your saddle and run off alone, you remember this. Two does not make an army! If it weren't for the epidemic, you would have been strung up before anyone knew you were missing. What's more, you put your friend in danger too." Jason said, pointing to Jules. "If your mother hadn't sent him to me, he would have been strung up in Galveston by the Army without a second thought."

Jason let that sink in good before going on. "Next time, you make damn sure you tell someone what you're up to. And I don't mean a foreigner just off a boat not knowing the lay of things. Now, take those burrs from under your saddles and get your butts back on those horses."

Jason turned his horse away. As he did it, Fogg caught a backward tirade for his ears only. "Preacher's kids. I told my sister those two would be a handful one day. Now you know why I didn't let you have those horses."

Both young men came to their feet and carefully felt under their saddles before remounting. They pulled a small ball of prickly thorns from under their saddle blankets.

"Sweetgum balls," Mark said in disgust.